


Dark Side of the Moon

by sheron



Series: Reconstruction [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Daniel Sousa & Jack Thompson Friendship, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, POV Daniel Sousa, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Rose Roberts Cameo, Secrets, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel has his hands full while Jack recovers in L.A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Side of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This story can probably stand on its own, however it follows the events of [Training Exercises](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6181354) from Daniel's point of view and will make more sense read as a sequel to that story. Please note that while there's Peggy/Daniel here, the pairing is not the focus.

_"What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it." ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_  


 

Peggy was doing something bewilderingly amazing with her soft full lips near Daniel's ear when Jack woke up nearby in his hospital bed. 

They sprang apart. Peggy jumped off Daniel's lap where they'd been curled up in each other at the bedside in one terrifically uncomfortable armchair. She straightened her hair hurriedly, while Daniel tried to get himself under control. 

Jack croaked for water, or at least that's the story Daniel was sticking with because he went to the table by the wall to pour a glass while Peggy leaned closer to Jack and touched the top of his palm.

"How are you, Jack?" she said.

Daniel remembered waking up for the first time after his own injury, a pretty blond American nurse sponging his face. What a balm it had been after the heat, grime and dirt he had so become accustomed to. She'd spoken in a similar voice, an angel of kindness to a soldier wounded in battle. He might have looked afraid, like Jack did, that he'd passed on. Then, as reason returned, knowledge of what had brought him to the hospital bed sank in slowly, like a weight settling behind his eyes. Daniel watched the play-by-play of it on Jack's face and thought how similar all men were, in the end, when it got down to the bone and the blood. In the end, the faces they wore were the same.

There was the awkward moment when Daniel looked down at the glass in his hand, back at Jack lying pale and dazed on the white pillows and knew he'd be helping the man drink. It felt strange to hold Jack's head up with the palm of his hand at the back of his head; it felt like having too much power. The fact that Jack allowed his help without a hint of protest spoke to how disoriented he was. Daniel remembered being there.

After the disturbingly painful procedure of drinking a few sips was over with, Jack reclined back on the pillows looking like he'd run a marathon.

"Who shot me?" he said when he could speak, his voice a rough whisper. He seemed more centered with each moment he was awake. Something inside Daniel's chest relaxed a fraction.

"We were hoping you got a look at the shooter," Daniel said. "Did you see anything?"

Jack stared at the ceiling for a moment. "A man. Dark clothes and a hat."

"How sure are you?"

"That it was a man?" Jack spoke slowly, but steadily. "Sure. Didn't see the face." He transferred his eyes down, looking if not surprised then definitely bemused, and Daniel realized he'd taken Peggy's hand at her side and was holding it. Daniel didn't let go.

Another awkward silence settled in the room. Daniel barely held back from saying something stupid like apologizing that he hadn't been there, hadn't been the one to find Jack (when he could have so easily offered to accompany him to the airport), hadn't been there when Jack was in surgery (because he had taken the time off work and he hadn't trained his agents well enough to track him down for something as urgent as this). He wanted to apologize because he regretted it, but he couldn't let a word of his guilt past his lips because the only one it would have helped was himself. He could help Jack by making sure nobody else came to harm him while he recovered. He'd help Jack by finding who had tried to kill him.

Peggy clicked her heel against the floor tile. She set her hand on her hip. "Really quite unseemly, getting shot just to stay in L.A."

The corner of Jack's mouth turned up. "Laugh at the dying man, will ya?"

Peggy exaggerated the roll of her eyes. "Please. You're not going to die."

"Feels like it." Jack's eyes slid closed.

Peggy gave a desperate, terrified glance to Daniel, before she cleared her throat and said, "Yes, well. I believe you should rest."

Jack might have been asleep already. The morphine they had him on wouldn't allow for more than brief moments of wakefulness until they lowered the dosage. At least Jack had been awake and seemed briefly coherent.

When they'd first learned of it from Rose, Daniel knew both he and Peggy had feared the worst, even as Rose hurried to reassure them that Jack survived the long surgery. It had been a case of unfortunate timing: thinking he knew Jack was on the plane to New York and wouldn't land for many hours, Daniel hadn't given him a single thought in the day that he and Peggy had spent together. After that kiss at the office, Daniel couldn't have gotten any work done if he'd tried. He used his executive privilege to give himself the rest of the day off, and he and Peggy had had a marvelous time, strolling the beach, sitting on one of the benches at sunset, only half-watching it, his hands in her hair, trying to recall ever being so at peace with himself. It was only when Daniel drove Peggy back in the evening that Ana Jarvis rushed out about Rose having been trying to reach them that evening. 

Apparently a call had come in to West Coast SSR about what had happened to Jack, the local police notifying one of the rookie agents there of the pending investigation into attempted murder. Somehow the news got lost in the daily grind: apparently some of his agents underestimated the importance of one of the higher ranked members of their organization ending up in the hospital and way overestimated the value of Daniel's first day off in three months. Regardless, it wasn't until Rose had come in for an evening shift at the SSR and took charge of things that someone had tried to telephone them, and when Daniel couldn't be reached, notified the Jarvises. By then it was late night and Peggy and Daniel had made it to the Stark mansion where Peggy was stills staying.

Ana had packed Peggy a warm shawl to take with her, correctly predicting that Peggy wouldn't be able to sleep until she saw Jack for herself. Daniel wouldn't have even attempted it. They both rushed to the hospital, with Mr. Jarvis at the wheel. The man was a treasure. Sometimes, Daniel thought he understood Peggy better than Daniel did, because he had known exactly what to say to get the panicked look off her face and have Peggy nod, lips pressed together and determined. Daniel was lost in his own fears. Peggy squeezed his hand, the softness of her fingertips sliding against his and bringing him back. Jarvis may have understood her, but he couldn't love Peggy more than Daniel did. It was not possible.

As a result of the delay, they got to Jack's bedside in the middle of the night ― federal agent's credentials helped the hospital staff allow them being there long past visiting hours ― and they spent the rest of the night, morning and most of the afternoon in the single arm chair by his bedside, only leaving it one at a time to get a cup of lukewarm tea and freshen up. Peggy hadn't closed her eyes or tried to sleep, although her head had rested on Daniel's shoulder in the early hours of the morning when the silence in the room felt deafening. 

Jack had looked pale and drawn, but according to the doctors, his prognosis was excellent for the seriousness of his injury. His lung had been reinflated, and they had given him a small blood transfusion (Jack was O-Positive). Jack owed a great deal to the numerous casualties of the War that had given the surgeons who worked on him enough practice with upper torso injuries to know how to operate. He hadn't hemorrhaged, which the doctors credited with the position the hotel staff had found him in, lying on the side so that the blood hadn't gathered in his chest. It had probably saved him, as had the quick response from the concierge who had found him what must have been only a short while after the shooting. Nobody had heard the shot (silencer, professional) or seen the hitman (nothing was taken from the room, it wasn't burglarized and Jacks passport, SSR ID and money had been lying on top of the suitcase he'd been packing. 

Someone had wanted Jack out of the way. After a brief discussion with Peggy about it, she accepted Daniel's decision to head back to the office since Jack was asleep again. He had to put his best men on the trail before it went cold. Daniel rubbed his aching head as he thought about that. His office was so green, the best people for this job were actually Peggy and himself. He'd have called on Jack for help, if the situation was different. As things stood, Daniel was the most senior Agent around, and the sudden power vacuum made his head swim a little. Making a mental note to deal with the deficient support structure at his office once things stabilized, Daniel got cracking on the evidence from Jack's hotel room himself.

Mr. Jarvis had driven back in the afternoon with a chance of clothes for Peggy, and stayed with Jack as he slept while Peggy took a break. By that evening, Daniel had an agent posted at the door to Jack's room in case whoever it was came back to finish the job. This didn't mean that Peggy and Daniel were absent from the hospital room however. They each visited at least once a day, hoping to catch him awake. They still had to get Jack to talk about what he had seen, it might give them vital clues to finding out who shot him.

They still wanted to make sure that Jack was going to be alright.  


 

* * *

 

Three days of no leads, chasing shadows and too much paperwork and Daniel's day was capped with a visit to Jack's hospital room, for once without Peggy.

The morphine had briefly turned Jack philosophical that evening; Daniel hadn't enjoyed it.

"Do you think Dooley was conscious of it when that explosive vest took him apart?"

Daniel lifted his head from where he had been studying the pattern of tile on the hospital floor, his mind a hundred miles away. "What?"

"Do you think he was aware?" Jack said slowly, eyes staring at the ceiling. "If only one little bullet can cause so much damage...what do you think Dooley felt?"

Daniel shifted in his chair.

Jack's eyes rolled slowly down to meet his. "What did you feel?" Jack's eyes slid down to Daniel's knee.

Daniel jumped up, grabbing his crutch which had been lying against the armchair. It was a rough motion, Jack startled as he wouldn't have only a few weeks ago, and Daniel felt guilty. Not guilty enough to indulge that discussion. He looked about the room for something to do.

"I should have been nicer to you about your leg," Jack said unexpectedly. It was the morphine. Obviously, it was the morphine because Jack didn't _say_ things like that, even if recently Daniel had been given some cause to believe Jack was _their_ kind of people, after all. Not least, Jack didn't say these things because he didn't have to. Daniel knew Jack should have been taken down a notch for the way he'd treated those he felt were weaker than him, but the man _had_ been. Got his marbles rearranged by a guy he'd trusted his future to, got himself tangled up in something so deep and dark it had nearly gotten him killed. They both knew this; so there was no need to bring any of it up.

"No way back; just move forward," Jack said, like he was reading Daniel's mind.

Daniel said, surprised, "Yeah."

Another night and day passed.

Jack hadn't wanted anyone to notify his parents of the injury, although it could hardly be hidden for long. Already, the first place Daniel called upon leaving the hospital was the East Coast SSR. Besides notifying them and putting a temporary commanding structure in place, he needed them to send Jack's personal file to Daniel's office. Although the timing was suspicious, it was possible that whoever had put out a hit on Jack had nothing to do with Whitney Frost or Vernon Masters. He had to cover all angles. Nobody knew what happened to Vernon Masters after the confrontation with Whitney Frost. They had placed Missing Person posters around L.A., but received no calls at the number listed. It was as though the man vanished into thin air.

Daniel went to work, he couldn't spare much time for hospital visits during the day. It felt like enough work for twelve men had landed on his desk. He had US Senators calling him to discuss how the SSR money was being spent under his guidance; with the upcoming election everyone was keen to cut costs. Daniel hated the bullshit that went into this part of the job. Jack had been better at charming the higher ups into opening their pockets. 

Besides, Violet worked day-shifts and it was awkward enough to endure the disapproving stares of her coworkers without taking the risk of running into her. Violet was no gossip, but their engagement had been public and the subsequent break up couldn't be kept under-wraps. She'd had the benefit of being able to say she broke it off, but it didn't assuage Daniel's remorse. So he visited late in the evenings, when most people wouldn't recognize who he was. Perhaps that's why he got to see the odder, less composed side of Jack Thompson.

Regrets. Jack had seemed impervious to having any, something Daniel alternatively envied and eschewed, but one late night when Daniel had hurriedly walked in, apologizing for the late hour (he'd carved out a few hours after work to spend alone with Peggy, and didn't know how it had gotten so late) he got a feverish look from Jack and a question.

"Has Wilkes checked in?"

Daniel paused in the doorway at the nonsequitur, but it seemed a safe enough topic. "At Stark's facility in Peru? He phoned Peggy and I could hear the scientific delight spilling out from the next room." He shrugged. "Guess Howard's approach to invention agrees with him."

"So he hasn't gone off the deep end?" Jack seemed painfully determined to make sure. 

"Not that we know of." Daniel examined Jack's sweaty brow and flushed cheeks and asked carefully, "What makes you ask?"

"It was my job to take him out if he was a danger," Jack said, then stumbled on, "He had been a danger. _You_ could see that couldn't you, even if she couldn't?"

Before Daniel could answer, Jack started to cough, and waved Daniel's offer of water off. He was encouraged to cough by the medical staff because it cleared his lungs, even if he looked like someone had stuck a knife in his chest afterward.

When the night nurse came to check on Jack, he managed to give her a bit of a smile and Daniel could see her attitude shift. She'd been ready to tell Daniel to leave, but one word from Jack and Daniel was allowed past hospital visiting hours. In Daniel's observation, most of the hospital's nurses obviously doted on their charming blond patient, the stern frowns Daniel was presented with melting away into indulgent smiles when dealing with Jack. The man ate it up, Daniel could practically see his ego swell.

They fluffed his pillows and they never seemed to mind when he was cross because his chest was hurting more than usual or when he had to do some particularly nasty bit of physiotherapy. Jack could ask them for something ridiculous like macaroons from that bakery a block down that he really missed the taste of, and he would get his pastry promptly at the end of lunch, his rakish smile making the plump head nurse in her fifties blush like a schoolgirl. Daniel couldn't get a solid cup of coffee without being glared at in the cafeteria. Granted, Jack hadn't dated and broken the heart of any of their friends or coworkers, and he _was_ the one recovering from a gunshot wound and thus an object of considerable sympathy, but Daniel wasn't used to being quite so soundly outmaneuvered. 

Jack was no model patient. As days passed, he very obviously chafed at displaying any weakness in front of anyone who knew him from before, and particularly Peggy. Daniel didn't completely understand the dynamic at play, but it was obvious that whatever Jack was feeling got packed away and stored for later if Peggy came to visit the hospital. Their exchanges were friendly, friendlier even than the kind of occasional talks Jack had been having with Daniel, and he marveled at how far those two had come. Yet, the Jack that Peggy was presented with always seemed more put together and full of polish and gloss than the more ragged version that Daniel got to see on the rare occasions that he and Jack were alone together. 

Jack wouldn't let her be there when the doctors allowed him to walk. (He'd been sure he was ready much earlier, and it had been hard for the nursing staff to keep him from trying to get out of bed and possibly harming himself until the wound had healed sufficiently). That first shaky step Jack took with naked feet, swaying like he would drop right there as he got his bearings had Daniel make an aborted motion to help. A purely human instinct, really. He hadn't even been aware he started to move until Jack had thrown him a furious, forbidding look. Daniel remembered himself, and he remembered what it was like when he'd been in Jack's position. And he'd stayed a quiet, unobtrusive presence ever since. Maybe that was why Jack had relaxed enough to let Daniel help him down the few steps of the hospital entrance when he had been released, Daniel's hand under his left elbow, a walking stick in his other hand.

Daniel was glad Jack was too distracted with navigating all the difficulties of the sidewalk because he never asked Daniel if there'd been any progress made in finding the man who tried to kill him. Peggy had made him promise not to reveal where their investigation was tending until they had something more solid. It wasn't good.  


 

* * *

 

With Jack out of the hospital, he looked to improve exceptionally. Gone was the raggedly desperate man who'd wondered about the dying moments of their old boss. In his place was same old Jack that Daniel was used to, slightly dismissive and pompous, but possessing enough personal magnetism that people still flocked to him despite that.

Initially, Peggy had cajoled and threatened until Jack gave in to the idea of using one of the rooms in Stark's huge house while he recuperated ― no doubt the threat of having one of the SSR Agents or Peggy herself sleeping on the couch in his hotel room if he tried to stick with it had helped drive the point home. They still hadn't known if the attempt at Jack's life had been a side-effect or the goal, and if the killer would try again. The sweep didn't turn up any fingerprints. They did know, once Jack had been well enough to look through his possessions, carefully gathered and packed in cellophane from the hotel-room, that the only thing missing was a file from London on one M. Carter. Peggy had gotten a very pinched look on her face when they had discovered that. The trail for the file had gone cold weeks ago, since they hadn't known about it being in Vernon's then Jack's possession, or in Peggy's case hadn't thought the fake file was relevant. 

If there had been no question of Jack staying by himself until he was completely on his solid two feet, there had been equally no question of him returning to the New York SSR. An interim Chief had been appointed there: Agent Morrison from Washington, someone neither Jack nor Daniel knew very well, and the news had put Jack in a dour mood for an evening. The next morning he seemed to have shrugged it off, and returned to his physiotherapy exercises with renewed vigor. Once he was no longer sleeping the days away, he'd convinced Peggy to sneak him some files from the office. Apparently, even dry paperwork was more appealing than doing nothing. He made a big production of "doing the filing" while Peggy got to do the serious jobs, and Daniel thought it was over-the top but he could tell Peggy was charmed even so.

For entertainment, in the evenings they all played cards. Mrs. Jarvis was utterly hopeless, despite Rose's patient coaching. Mr. Jarvis was too occupied with fluffing her pillows and bringing her drink refreshments to pay any attention to his own hand. Ana was still recovering from her own injury and she and Jack had formed a sort of "gun shot survivors" league at the card table that was entertaining to watch, even if the distracting combination proved lethal when Jack continuously cleaned Daniel's chips out. That was alright. Nobody had managed to beat Peggy. Daniel was very proud.

Ana's recovery continued apace as well. The Jarvises had acquired a Bernese Mountain Dog puppy that liked to chew on the laces in Daniel's shoes (nobody else's would do). Daniel was led to understand he was Mr. Jarvis' gift to his wife, and the man was determined to train the puppy to be the perfect guard-dog to his mistress. With his thick black coat, the puppy liked to run about in the early morning or late evening, once the air had cooled down. Getting hosed down with water seemed to be his favourite activity (as was shaking off the water sending it flying everywhere). Mr. Jarvis looked upon the additional chores created by the dog with a martyr's cast to his eyes, but Daniel had caught him laughing and playing with him often enough that he thought Ana wasn't the only one who was smitten.

One evening after the game, when they sat on the veranda where Mrs. Jarvis often came to read a book, a thick comforter on her lap and her husband hovering in the periphery, the puppy came over and put its already knee-high head in Daniel's lap. Rubbing the back of the dog's head and making him whine in pleasure, Daniel glanced up to see Peggy watching him. She turned away when he caught her eyes, returning to her private conversation with Rose, and he flushed a little hearing the two of them laugh at something. Bernard the Flamingo, passed by on the grass outside and disappeared from view. Sitting there, surrounded by people he thought of as friends, Daniel had a strong sensation that he slipped into paradise ― the peacefulness of the moment seemed almost stunning in its clarity. 

He closed his eyes, trying to engrave the memory of it in his mind. The puppy nosed his hand, and licked his fingers.

"Are you alright?" Ana asked from his side. "Bear didn't bite you did he? He doesn't know his own strength yet."

Daniel opened his eyes and through the tightness of his throat said, "I'm alright."

Ana tilted her head for a moment, as though evaluating the truth of that statement before she nodded.

"Thank you for having us over at your home," Daniel said.

"The more the merrier," she said, gladly.

This reminded Daniel of one of the reasons they'd started to gather at the Jarvises' and he said, as a compliment to the care of the mistress of the house, "Jack seems to be doing better than ever."

Ana looked in Thompson's direction, a long look.

"Not all injuries are visible to the eyes," she said. Her smile was somehow terribly sad.

Daniel stared at her, surprised for a moment. Peggy came closer to Ana and touched her arm sitting next to the woman, a silent communication passing between them. Daniel didn't know what that was about, but he turned to watch Jack more carefully, considering him in light of Ana's words. Jack was standing off to the side from them, leaning forward against the railing, staring off into the distance, his face half-turned away. He seemed just fine.

He had wondered why none of the Thompson family had come to visit Jack, but when asked the man had only shrugged and said he had phoned his father telling them not to worry. He hadn't wanted them to concern themselves with an injury that he was "practically over anyway" ― then Jack had switched the topic. To Daniel it seemed as though Jack had grossly understated the seriousness of what he was going through on that phone call, and his reasons remained obscured. For all the oddness of it, Daniel was the last person to argue if Jack seemed to know what he was doing as far as his own health was concerned. As days passed, his recovery rate was tremendous. Already, when he wasn't walking it was difficult to tell he had been shot in the first place, and his attitude was unflinchingly positive. If Daniel accompanied Jack to the hospital for doctor checkups, everyone always turned to Daniel assuming he was the patient and Jack was there to accompany him. Only Jack found this hilarious.

He brought wine as a gift to his physiotherapist, which Daniel dismissed as sucking up to the person with the power to inflict serious bodily hurt on you. Dismissed the candy for the head nurse as smarmy and rolled his eyes over the inevitable scene of Jack leaning close, chatting with one of the young nurses in the hallways, when Daniel came back with lukewarm coffee from the cafeteria. Her face had been turned up adoringly towards Jack, then she cooled visibly at the sight of Daniel, the Evil Breaker of Violet's Heart. 

He hadn't thought any of Jack's efforts to make nice with the staff genuine until he realized Jack knew the names of every nurse passing them by, and would often let fly a question about the health of what Daniel could only assume were their family members. When he'd had the time to memorize all that information, including their preferences of flowers and who owned which cat, Daniel couldn't say, but it had to be some kind of a superpower. He was forced to admit that perhaps the hospital staff had a legitimate reason for enjoying Jack's company that went beyond him trying to earn an advantage.

Jack had moved out of Stark's house at first opportunity once he was vertical for more than a couple of hour each day, and was spending money (rather pointlessly in Daniel's opinion) on a boarding house type lodging, much to Peggy's consternation. Daniel understood it. It was a pride thing.

Daniel was relieved at the pace of Jack's recovery, since he had many other things to worry about. What Jack didn't know was that they'd found Vega dead in his cell while Jack was still in the hospital. Daniel had been very careful to keep this quiet, since not only was it an embarrassment to the SSR when their prisoner managed to acquire poison, Daniel wasn't actually certain that's what happened. Maybe whoever had tried to take out Jack had gone after Vega too. The man had sounded progressively more desperate in the days coming up to his death. Vega might have killed himself from fear of the reprisal, but it was at least as likely that someone hadn't wanted him to face a trial. 

Daniel had increased security on Blackwell, whose own court-date was still a month away. They were processing numerous other SSR Agents that had been revealed to be a part of Vernon Masters's cover up, those that they'd managed to arrest before news became public knowledge that they were doing house-cleaning. Some had gone into hiding. In going after them, Daniel had a solid backing of the majority of the lower ranks of the SSR, who knew Jack had ended up in the hospital and didn't tolerate an attack on one of their own. The higher ups and the War council had given their approval as well, at least in word. Vernon Masters disappearance had left a large void they were now scrambling to fill, but the power struggle hadn't spilled into the daily lives at the SSR yet. The most run-around Daniel had received had been from the judges, and he worried daily about the outcome of those trials if more than one judge was in the Arena Council's pocket. Those people, at least, were still untouchable to someone like Daniel. He had to gather enough evidence to implicate even one of them, and Blackwell was his golden ticket. The man knew a lot, but he was asking for immunity and dragging his feet. Some evenings, Daniel wished he had Jack around to back him up in the interrogation room. They had perfected a solid Good Cop, Bad Cop act and a part of Daniel missed the feeling of tag-teaming criminals into spilling all their sins.

Then there were the little things that made his job more difficult. Not least of them was the state of the green agents under his command combined with the trouble Peggy continuously seemed to find on missions all around L.A., now that she had applied for a permanent reassignment to the West Coast SSR. (Not that Daniel wasn't secretly screaming hooray, as this last obstacle to them being together was being cleared. The evening they had decided that she would move, they'd celebrated in a nice restaurant, Peggy had worn a magnificent red dress. It seemed that they were going steady. Dating.)

Being in a committed relationship with Peggy meant he was waiting for her at the Stark mansion when she returned from a failed mission, very obviously trying and failing to control her annoyance, Mr. Jarvis at her side, having accompanied her for the evening.

"All _evening_ we stood there," Peggy said, pacing the room, "socializing with what had to be the _dullest_ group of people I've ever had the displeasure of being in a conversation with, waiting for the bloody woman to get off her phone and come talk to her guests. But no."

She threw her purse on the coffee table, walked over to the couch near the desk Daniel was using and flopped down, feet flying up temporarily to reveal a very enticing upper calf, before they landed on the arm of a couch. Peggy stared moodily at the ceiling, as she kicked off her high-heeled shoes, wiggling her cute painted toes in the air. Daniel sat transfixed.

"The hors d'oeuvre were passable," Jarvis said. "I might include those little crab pastries into my repertoire."

Peggy perked up temporarily at the mention of the appetizers, but it looked like food was the only gain of the evening, because she soon looked discontented again. "Oh Mr. Jarvis, could I trouble you for a nightcap?"

"Certainly, Ms. Carter."

While Jarvis fixed them drinks from a bottle in the wine rack built into one of the walls, Daniel tried to focus on the task at hand. At least tonight's was a mission where the highest risk was embarrassment to the SSR in case they were discovered. Some of Peggy's quests were a great deal more dangerous.

"Were you able to find out anything?"

Waiting up for Peggy was easier at the Stark mansion, since that way he could be there as soon as she got home and it didn't force her to report to the SSR office or phone him at his place. Ana had offered to keep him company, but was happy to retire to her to read when he demurred. They had become easy around each other, like old friends, but then Ana was friends with everyone. Daniel had been spending a significant portion of his time at Stark's house simply because both he and Peggy had agreed it was the most secure building they knew, with the SSR walls too thin to have the kind of discussions they'd been having lately. He had his own desk drawer now, where he kept a few work files that was easier to lock up here rather than carry them back and forth between Stark's house and his own place daily.

Besides, this room was about two hundred times more attractive than his two barren rooms, and at least five hundred times more comfortable. Howard Stark had the best interior designers money could afford. Daniel was very fond of the leather chair with a high-back he currently occupied. Besides the mahogany desk, there was a lovely little fireplace in the wall that lend the room a warm, homey glow even if it was mostly a decoration rather than an attempt to heat the space.

"The whole evening was a bust," Peggy sat up, having rested her feet a little, she straightened her blue dress skirt to settle primly over her knees. "The general's wife was called away for a phone-call with her sister just as I was about to make my move to talk to her, and she must have spent the whole evening talking nonsense from her room upstairs. I attempted to get lost looking for a bathroom, but a series of entirely too helpful maids thwarted my efforts. Mr. Jarvis and I took a stroll in the gardens near her open balcony, but only heard something about a cat."

She emptied the drink in front of her rather too fast.

"We'll have to try again. An entire day lost in preparations, dress fittings and makeup to such a fruitless result." Peggy glanced at Daniel, and said rather archly, "If we had more female Agents on the SSR's payroll, I wouldn't end up with every such job. And I'm sure Mr. Jarvis is tiring of accompanying me to these social events." 

"On the contrary, Ms. Carter," Jarvis looked ready to protest quite vigorously, but then his eyes suddenly landed on Daniel, and for some reason his animation faded. "However, it is getting quite late and Ana has been very patient with me this evening."

"Go see to your wife, Mr. Jarvis," Peggy said with a smile. 

"Mrs. Jarvis has been reading on the veranda last I know," Daniel said. 

"In this breeze?" Jarvis said, alarmed. His barely acceptably polite, "Goodnight," echoed as he fairly sprinted in the direction of the veranda out-back, despite knowing the veranda was covered and there was no chance of Ana catching a cold.

Peggy smiled in his wake, and rose. She looked amazing in the blue dress, the white stripes on the shoulders of her dress lending her a slightly commanding appearance, like they were insignia.

Walking over to the wall, Peggy set a Gramophone to play one of the records, and as it quietly filling the room with ambiance Daniel heard the start of a familiar tune. These songs used to play on the Front, but they'd always symbolized home to the tired men, and the memory was a pleasant one.

"I trust your evening was better than mine?" 

Daniel sighed. In a way, it had been. Still, he'd been wracking his brain over a new trouble of his, and he could use Peggy's advice.

"Jack's starting to ask me if I have any cases he can look at," Daniel confessed. "He's officially off active duty and no-where near ready to take a case on his own, but that doesn't stop him from making a nuisance of himself at the office."

"The man is bored. You should find him something to do."

"A bored Jack is a dangerous Jack?"

She smiled, like he was so smart of having that thought himself. "Has he said anything about going back to New York?" Peggy added casually, "He's well enough to travel if he wanted to."

"He phoned Morrison from my office, but made it sound like he was tied up with work here. I don't think the Interim Chief in New York has any better idea when Jack's taking his job back."

"Or if," Peggy said.

"You think Jack is planning to stay here?" Daniel didn't try to hide his skepticism of the idea. In every conversation he had with Jack on the subject, his eventual return to New York had seemed a foregone conclusion. 

"No, but then," she smiled an impish little smile, "I had been certain I was only visiting when I first got off the plane here. And here we are."

Daniel felt his own smile stretch across his lips. "Here we are." Her eyes traced his face, but she didn't make any move closer, so they kept talking even as he joined her sitting on the couch. 

Peggy had applied for a permanent move to L.A. only last week, after they had an intimate and highly awkward discussion about what they needed to do to stay together. For the time being, it was having Peggy move to L.A. since Daniel could not abandon the SSR office here. Besides, the biggest case on their plate was still one concerning cleaning up the mess after Vernon Masters and finding who hired the hitman for Jack. And while Vernon himself may have disappeared into thin air (possibly literally), he'd left behind a wobbling organization. It fell to Daniel, as Chief, to at least make sure the West Coast office ran smoothly. Sometimes he felt like the SSR was crumbling around him. God knew, the East Coast was being run by someone they had very little personal experience with, although so far Morrison had held up admirably. Daniel had thought Morrison a temporary measure, but if Peggy was right, and Jack was reconsidering going back to New York, that put a new spin on things. Still, Jack was keeping his cards pretty close to the chest. Who knew what he was planning?

"Do you think it's odd, that Jack doesn't want anyone to know how serious it had been?"

Peggy looked away, her gaze settling on the fireplace where in the coolness of the evening, the tickling flames ran over the wooden logs. The flickers of flame reflected in her warm brown eyes. 

"Have you read that entire list of names?" She said then, staring at the fire and pressing her lips together.

"Vernon Master's contacts?" Daniel lifted his eyebrows. He looked back at the desk and reached over, stretching to pull the folder to himself with two fingers. The list had been composed from more than one source; Vega, before his unfortunate demise had filled in a good third of it. Once it was on his lap, Daniel pulled the white sheet out, a two column alphabetical list of everyone Vernon Masters dealt with. He scanned it again. "What of it?"

"Skip down to letter 'T'."

Daniel's eyes leaped down the list immediately, but his head connected the dots even before he read the name. He looked up, sighing explosively. He should have guessed. Peggy looked back at him, silent.

"Do you think Jack's father is involved?" God, he hoped not. This was such a mess already.

Peggy shrugged a maybe.

Daniel thought about what led them to this discussion, Jack's strange reticence to invite his family into his life. "Do you think Jack _knows_?"

"I think we should be convinced of what their connection was before we ask him." She sounded very serious about that.

"Damn." Daniel ran his eyes around the room, seeing nothing. "He must suspect. Otherwise, he would have already gone back East. His family's there, his job's there. Interim Chief Morrison is probably starting to think of it as his office by now, and I've never seen Jack so ready to lend his responsibilities to anyone else. I should have realized."

"You had a few things on your mind." Peggy stroked his arm, all the way to his rolled up sleeves, her fingertips brushing the short hairs on the way. Her voice was thoughtful and calm. "Jack's not ready to face the heat, so he's hiding, right here in the bright Californian sun."

Daniel remembered the way Jack always changed the topic when the subject of his family came up. Every time he'd poke fun at Daniel for being so sappy, make a joke at his expense, and next thing he knew, Daniel was too irritated to even remember why he bothered talking to the man, let alone trying to act concerned. Maybe Jack didn't know anything, but he sure spent a lot of energy making certain they never discussed any of it.

"Do you think..." Daniel started, thinking about the way Jack had played them when he had a plan to take out Vernon and Whitney together. They hadn't suspected a thing because there hadn't been any difference between the way Jack acted when he conned them and the real thing. Whatever the real Jack was, if Daniel had ever met that man. He stopped, because they were unpleasant thoughts to say out-loud.

Peggy read him like a book. Maybe she always did (except when he wanted to do something romantic, then he could surprise her and watch with delight as her face lit up, marveling how she never seemed to expect that he'd pull all the stops, for her) but this, secrets and spy stuff, this Peggy knew cold. 

"I don't know," her expression was no longer calm. Peggy looked nervous and a little upset, and Daniel hated that he had put that look on her face. Hated Jack a little bit for being so damn unpredictable. "I'd like to hope that Jack knows who his real friends are, by now." She shrugged, a surprisingly vulnerable gesture. 

Then, Peggy suddenly stood up, and stretched out a hand. There was a smile on her face again, it had flicked on like a switch, as though none of the sorrow of their previous discussion had ever existed. He loved her ability to look forward towards a brighter future. "Now, come on." She tilted her head to the side, where Daniel just realized the Gramophone had started to play the first notes of one of Glenn Miller's melodies. "They are playing our song."

Daniel smiled and after grabbing his crutch with the hand that wasn't holding Peggy's, let her pull him to his feet. She put his hand around her waist and leaned into him. Peggy loved dancing. Daniel loved slow music, it afforded an opportunity to hold Peggy close. He and Peggy swayed slowly, alone in the darkened room, while the Moonlight Serenade echoed through the night.  


 

* * *

 

Giving Jack something to do was harder than it sounded. There were plenty of bureaucratic jobs that needed doing around West Coast SSR, but those required an official sign off and with Jack off active duty he was technically not privy to the information in those reports. Nevermind that he'd been Daniel's superior not long ago; they had to play this one by the books and Jack had no jurisdiction even if he wasn't convalescing. As a result, Daniel often found himself with the difficult task of letting Jack know he had nothing for him. He would see a momentary flash of irritation on Jack's face before his expression became smooth as a lake again, and Jack would switch subjects or temporize about "someday". They both knew Jack wouldn't work under Daniel's supervision under normal circumstances, they'd both chaff with their roles. Daniel had accepted and understood that Jack saw himself as at least Daniel's equal on the SSR rung ladder, and would only undermine Daniel's authority if this arrangement became long term. It wasn't worth the fight for dominance that would result. They each had their coasts, and Daniel was quite happy to keep the authority he had in the West without someone like Jack inevitably clashing with his decisions, as they had on the Wilkes case.

In the meantime however, circumstances were far from normal, and Jack was an able agent, in mind if not in body. Daniel sympathized with Jack's need to occupy his time productively. There was only so much physio and rehabilitation one could fit in one's day before one craved for some normalcy. With that in mind, Daniel spoke with Rose in his office the next morning.

"I don't understand," Rose was saying a few minutes later, "Has there been a problem with my work?"

Daniel jumped to correct her, "Of course not. You know how much I value your contribution, Rose. You've been exemplary."

"If this is about those jack-rabbits, then I want it on record that―"

"This is not about the jack-rabbits." Daniel rubbed his head. One of Stark's nuttier inventions had run loose. "You were just doing your job and you did splendid. I read the report."

"So you think...I should give up a case that I've worked _hard_ on because...Jack Thompson is bored and needs something to do?"

Daniel winced. "That's not how I'd put it. You do have three open cases right now, Rose, and―"

She remained unmoved. "And I'm making progress on all three. If you have an issue with my methods―"

"No, no issue!" Daniel lifted his hands in surrender.

She just looked at him, the way she could some days, until he flushed and looked down.

"I'm sorry, Rose. You are right, I shouldn't have asked."

"Damn straight," she said.

Which just left Daniel with the same problem he had ten minutes ago and one pissed off Agent. He'd have to make it up to Rose. He sent her an apologetic look and saw her soften a little. 

As she was leaving, Jack walked in, like speaking of the devil made him appear, announcing, "Having solved the mystery of the location of Peggy's new office, I'm ready for my next job."

Rose said over her shoulder, "There are some reception room phones need manning." She strode away, skirt swaying with purpose.

Jack was looking back in her wake, mystified. "Did I say something to piss her off? I thought I was playing nice."

His honest puzzlement made Daniel smile. Jack had been playing nice, and not only with Peggy. Maybe Daniel could blame the memory device that Vernon had used on Jack, but since he'd joined their side in the fight, Jack had mellowed remarkably in his attitudes towards female SSR agents. Looking beyond his upbringing hadn't been effortless, but he'd done it when pressed. Gone was the jackass that had claimed superiority simply based on gender. If Daniel was being honest with himself however, the change had come long before then. Maybe it had been Jack's trip to Russia with Peggy that had seen the biggest shift in Jack's attitude ― he'd never seen Jack take Peggy lightly after that. Secretly, he hoped Jack's brush with injury would teach the man something about what it was like for a man like Daniel, always fighting his own body for what he could do. He'd never admit it out loud, of course. And knowing what Jack was going through, trying to get back to normal (even a new normal, since nothing was ever the same after an injury like that) made Daniel genuinely want to help.

"No, you're fine," he answered Jack's confusion with a smile. "She's mad at me about something." Daniel had a feeling he'll be paying for it some more later, not without just cause. Peggy was insisting that the female SSR agents were given more interesting assignments, and Daniel couldn't agree more. Right now though, he had a restless Jack in his office and absolutely nothing worthwhile to occupy him with.

"If you're looking for something to do then I'm sorry―"

That flash of irritation crossed Jack's eyes again, but he stopped Daniel before he could finish. "Can't a guy just stop by?" The smiling, blithe version of Jack was on full force. "Did you bring lunch or are you heading out?"

"I was planning to take Peggy out..." Daniel said.

"Say no more," Jack lifted his hands in the air, smiling. "Good luck on the date."

Daniel didn't try to call it anything else. He didn't mind being obvious when it came to Peggy, he did treasure every moment they got together. Especially lately, with their relationship still knew enough, the excitement about seeing her soon spiked through his blood. He was glad that any ribbing he got on the subject from Jack or any other agents had been light, because he couldn't have defended his behaviour.

Jack looked ready to leave, and he had that air about him of someone who was thinking about how he'd occupy the next ten hours of his day. He was leaning on a black walking stick he still had to use occasionally, and Daniel's heart hammered guiltily in his chest.

He made a joke of it. "You can fill out some of my forms? The new recruits are killing me."

Jack flashed him a smile of understanding. "Honestly, I'm just about ready to say yes."

"Gentlemen," Peggy walked in. "Jack." She looked him over. "Doing better?"

Jack gave her a coy smile. 

God, she was gorgeous. When she turned and smiled at him, her eyes lit up. Daniel didn't remember noticing Jack leave.  


 

* * *

 

It was just as well that Peggy finally came up with the idea of the three of them banding together to train the new recruits, because it finally solved the problem of utilizing Jack's considerable experience in a productive fashion. Jack hadn't looked terribly excited about the prospects when Peggy was writing down bullet points about the qualities of an ideal SSR agent, but he hadn't complained and in the coming days took on the task of organizing the obstacle course with gusto. Daniel was reminded anew how dedicated Jack was to his job, even if their differing methods occasionally clashed.

The difficult conversation they'd had about Vega and Blackwell's deaths was weighting on Daniel's mind. Jack had a right to know about that case, no doubt, he'd helped capture both men and led Vega's interrogation before everything changed. Now he was sidelined, and it didn't sit right with Daniel. But he and Peggy had discussed it and they both agreed that they needed to know more about how far the rot in the SSR had spread before they even considered bringing Jack in. He had played both of them in the final confrontation with Vernon Masters, and if Daniel was being honest with himself he just didn't know which way Jack would swing at any given moment. They needed people they could depend on and trust if they hoped to get anywhere. For now, that meant keeping their investigation to themselves.

After that lunch, Jack hadn't brought it up again, which was just as well since Daniel didn't know what to tell him. So Daniel and Jack kept the subject of conversation to training exercises whenever work came up, and although it created distance between them there was nothing for it. Daniel was particularly happy that at least with Howard Stark volunteering his defunct movie set for Jack's use as an obstacle course they hardly need to allocate any funding to the project. The SSR was strapped for cash, and the various legal messes that the new agents had recently gotten themselves (and by extension Daniel) into weren't helping.

With Peggy taking over the physical aspects of the recruits' training, she had started spending more and more time on physical exercises and drills. Daniel noted that Jack joined her on some of her outings with the recruits, and seemed particularly fond of morning runs ― although at the start he couldn't keep up with them at all, he'd gotten progressively better. Jack used the new SSR training regiment for his own rehabilitation. As for himself, Daniel was buried in the bureaucracy. Even carving out time for weapons and instrument-use in the field had left Daniel drained. He often found himself still in the office past nine in the evening, phoning Jack to check on him, or phoning Peggy to apologize for another evening when he was too buried in paperwork to make time for a date. Peggy understood and was great about it, but Daniel hated missing time with her. He tried to sleep less and get more work done late at night and early in the morning so he could still meet all the commitments to their relationship.

Aside from that, once they had settled into a routine, things ran smoothly. Jack was completely occupied with the obstacle course and his own rehab. The three of them met regularly for lunch, and often conversation turned away from training to slightly more personal discussion of recent political events or even entertainment, such as the new movies they planned on seeing. Daniel felt like the shared responsibility to the new recruits was bridging gaps between the three of them as well, binding them closer. For himself, he liked it, and as he watched the play-by-play of Peggy interacting with Jack, he thought the two of them were a lot more alike than he'd ever realized. Was it any wonder that when they set aside their prejudices (mostly Jack's) and opened up (mostly Peggy) the two of them obviously enjoyed each other's company. Daniel would have been jealous of the sparkle he saw in Peggy's eyes when she talked to Jack, if his own relationship with Peggy had been hitting any snags. As it was, Daniel had to rub his eyes in the mornings sometimes and splash water to his face to clear his head, feeling so lucky that he worried it had been but a dream.

Once the obstacle course was ready, in another couple of weeks, Jack took to making the recruits run though it on top of their daily workouts with Peggy. They'd been split up into teams of four, mostly two scientists paired with two civilians so there was a cross-coverage of skills on each team. That had played well in theory but presented all sorts of problems as the teams struggled to find a sense of balance. Jack had spent countless hours designing an obstacle course that would show the value of team-play, only to be faced with complete lack of understanding from the new recruits. One particular quartet, with Pearson and Martinez from the military side and Wells together with Ashton completing the scientist side of the equation, was due to run the obstacle course today. While they geared up, Peggy, Daniel and Jack discussed the final test the recruits would eventually be facing. 

It wasn't only meant to teach a lesson about tactics and introduce them to a real combat situation, it was meant to test their thinking under pressure. Maybe even more than that, test their hearts.

Peggy wasn't pleased about the role she'd mapped out for herself, a distraught girlfriend who had to be rescued after Daniel would "buy it" from Rose's shotgun filled with blanks, but she at least didn't have to abandon her honor to play her role. Even if she hadn't made any comments on the subject, Daniel could tell she worried about the role that Jack would have to play, a traitor willing to step over his friends on the way to glory. It cut a little close for comfort.

Perhaps reading her doubts, Jack had been joking and laughing all morning, making light of the situation with considerable skill. Daniel wondered if Peggy noticed the effort.

Presently, Jack said, "I was born to play that role."

Daniel glanced over in surprise when he saw Peggy's sudden stop out of the corner of his eyes. 

Peggy lay a careful hand on Jack's arm, saying in earnest, "No, Jack, you were meant for better things."

Daniel didn't see Jack's face, it was turned towards Peggy, but he sensed somehow that she'd said exactly the right thing. God, he loved that woman. His fretful doubts about Jack's loyalty seemed petty in the light of the rising sun, as all three of them turned to watch the new recruits approaching the obstacle course, fiddling with their new gear and chatting amicably. It was about time, Daniel decided, that he stopped making Jack pay for the mistakes that Peggy had already forgiven him for. What the hell, it was a new day. They'd paid with blood to get as far as they had. Let this be a blank slate. 

Their whole lives seemed to stretch out in front of them for eternity. Daniel was ready for those odds.  


 

* * *

 

He went to Peggy with the argument that it was time to bring Jack in on the investigation Daniel and Peggy had been running on the side. Well, mostly Peggy, because let's face it, Daniel barely had the time to step away from his desk long enough to show the new guys which way to point the gun before squeezing the trigger. Still, he had kept the eye of the higher-ups focused on him, allowing Peggy time out of the limelight enough to get the information on the sly. If she had an experienced Agent as backup on these side-missions (instead of a civilian, no matter how dedicated Mr. Jarvis was to the cause) Daniel would sleep a hell of a lot better. 

Peggy wasn't certain it was time to bring in Jack, but after watching the two of them run through that obstacle course together, practically hand in hand, Daniel knew it was no longer a matter of trust. If anything, Peggy cared _too_ much. Her tendency to try to take on the world alone to protect the people around her was starting to interfere with reason. So that morning, he dragged a stool closer to where she sat leaning against an armchair with one of her arms supporting her head on its back, a nervous and distracted expression on her face. He took her other hand in his, holding it until she turned her full attention.

"You're trying to do too much on your own again, Peggy."

She made a movement of her head, not a nod or a shake, both an admission and a dismissal. She already knew, but Peggy was as stubborn as a mule. Daniel smiled, because so was he.

"Peggy, you spend so much time worrying about how you can help him. Don't you see, you already are?" She tilted her head, and so Daniel went on, with sincerity, "He looked so damn happy when you got to the finish line. I've seen Jack Thompson be many things before, but that was the first time I think I saw him look happy. You gave him that, you pulled him through."

"He should have never gone out on that course," Peggy said with a flash of irritation, pressing her lips together. "He wasn't ready." But her irritation came from a place of concern for Jack, and Daniel was ready to see that now. 

"But he damn well wanted to prove that he was ready because you asked him to," Daniel said kindly. "You're trying to shield him, but that's not what he wants." He squeezed her fingers gently. "It isn't even what he needs. It's not what you need." If they kept their secrets it would keep them safer, perhaps, but it limited their resources. Sometimes, a strategic risk was worth the potential gain.

"You think we should tell him everything," Peggy said, looking so deeply at him that he felt it right down to his soul.

Daniel nodded. "Don't you?"

She smiled and touched the side of his face.

So that afternoon they clicked glasses to celebrate the most unorthodox field test in SSR history and told Jack everything they'd found about the corruption in the SSR thus far. Daniel had never felt more like he made the right call than when he watched Jack confess that he feared his father was involved. It had to have been gnawing at Jack, this thought about his father. These things tended to fester if they didn't see the light of day.

Jack had taken the folder knowing that they would ruffle some powerful feathers to get to the truth and possibly make some very important people very unhappy.

"Still think you made the right choice?" Peggy had asked, when Jack looked up from pursuing the documents in the folder.

"I became an Agent to protect this country from her enemies," Jack said. "Nothing's changed."

Peggy arched a brow.

The corner of Jack's mouth curved up with sly humour. "Okay, one thing's changed. You clearly like me a lot better now." He winked.

She threw a napkin at him.

In the spirit of their newfound camaraderie, Daniel decided to take his turn in inviting Jack out for a drink the next day. It was partly to check if he was having second thoughts. Partly, Daniel was just tired of pretending he didn't want Jack's company.

They got on together, when they both wanted to. It felt like they might finally be on the same page, no secrets left between them.

Late in the evening, he found Jack hiding out in Peggy's office again (she hardly ever used it, always out on this mission or that as she was, and Daniel got many wondering looks around the office from people aspiring to an office space of their own) since Jack had apparently co-opted it as a safe place to sit when he wanted to work alone. Maybe Jack simply missed his own office in New York. After everything they'd talked about at Stark's house the day before it was decided Jack would be staying in California for a while yet, at least until the full length of his short-term disability leave ran out. Daniel hadn't had to wonder if all three of them had felt the same kind of relief about that decision, temporary though it was, he'd read the same feeling on Peggy's and Jack's faces.

When Daniel walked in, rubbing his face and blinking water into his too-dry eyes, his neck aching from where Rose had shot him with fake bullets, Jack looked up from a white piece of paper he had been hunched over before.

"You look like how I feel," Jack said. "Long day?"

Instead of an answer, Daniel rolled his shoulders, feeling his neck ache. He'd gone to the office and stayed too late again, filling out paperwork hoping to shake out another piece of funding SSR desperately needed from the War department. His proposal sat on his desk, unfinished. He motioned towards the paper he'd seen Jack worrying over.

"If whatever you're writing is worse than my funding application, then I owe you a drink."

For a moment, Jack looked down at the paper on the desk blankly.

"I'm writing a letter to the treasury on behalf of Mrs. Dooley." Jack continued when Daniel looked askance, "She hasn't received her widow stipend for the past two months. With the coming election, the treasury reviewed its budget. Some bright yahoo raised the question of whether Dooley putting on that vest of his own free will," here Jack sounded sarcastic, "was actually "willful misconduct"."

"They can do that?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm writing an official account of the events to support her claim to the monthly income for her and her dependent son."

Daniel whistled.

Jack smiled somewhat bleakly at him. "Think that qualifies for your terms?"

In answer, Daniel reached over and grabbed Jack's coat off the coat hanger, throwing it at the man. "Come on, we're going out."

Jack didn't argue.

And so they finally had that drink at a low-key bar on the edge of town, where nobody paid attention to the two tired SSR agents. The atmosphere was dark and smoky, the cheap wooden table they had gotten themselves in the corner of the room way out of the way of the bar. Jack had mostly been plying them both with shots of bourbon that he carried over to the table himself, since the waiters were mysteriously absent. It worked for the two of them, since privacy was more valuable than service.

At some point during the evening, Daniel tried to bring up the subject of Dooley again, remembering the conversation from the hospital, when feverish Jack had seemed to want to discuss it. Jack said something about how Agent Yauch had tried to warn him about Dr. Fennhoff before the Agent had stepped in front of the car himself. Nobody wondered why Yauch had done that anymore, in retrospect. Daniel was suddenly fiercely glad that it hadn't been Jack in Yauch's place, as it so easily could have been. It wasn't a very nice feeling, but he'd never known Yauch very well, and here the two of them sat, together, talking about everything and nothing at all, and Daniel was glad they could have this. Sometimes it was the little details that made all the difference: like that hitman shooting Jack in the right side of the chest instead of the left, where the bullet would have gone through the heart.

Daniel clinked glasses with Jack, drinking away the tightness in his throat.

"I hadn't wanted to seem alarmist about that shrink," Jack was saying, spreading his hands apart as though to show he had nothing to hide, "Dooley always knew what he was doing."

"Right," Daniel nodded. They'd never discussed their old boss' death, although perhaps they should have. He'd always wished he had been in the building when it had happened. It was a prideful thing, but Daniel always felt like maybe he would have figured out a way to get that vest off. Instead, Peggy and Jack had had to helplessly watch the man die. They'd all been through the war, it was true, but it felt different when these things happened in peace time. It cut harder.

"Or at least he always looked like he knew what he was doing," Daniel said thoughtfully.

Jack's smile turned deprecating. "That sounds familiar for some reason."

"Not pointing any fingers," Daniel said with a smile.

"No, you're right." Jack seemed to agree too readily, perhaps from the bourbon easing his tongue. "Maybe I don't know what I'm doing half the time." 

"It's a brave thing to keep going when you don't have all the answers."

"Yeah," Jack said with false brightness, "Brave; that's me." Although the words themselves were light, a dark undercurrent ran through Jack's eyes before they flickered down to his drink. Having struggled with his own demons after the injury, Daniel knew full well how these kinds of thoughts could prey on a man.

Daniel suddenly felt terrible that Jack would feel that way. He searched for something to say that would make the man remember that he was more than some driftwood, swept away by politics and people more powerful than they. Thought about everything he knew of the man, before he knew exactly what he had to say.

"You aren't a coward, Jack. You're a hero. Hell, your Navy cross proves that. Hold on to it."

Jack stared at him wide-eyed for a second before he started laughing. Daniel smiled too.

Jack downed a shot in one gulp, and was still chortling into his empty glass a minute later, hiding his eyes. Daniel felt awash with a sudden affectionate warmth.

"Just doing what needed to be done, right?" Daniel said, playfully bumping his foot against Jack's.

Jack did glance up. He looked like there were many thoughts crowding behind his eyes, but then he just took a slow breath and said, "Why do we keep talking about me?" His lips twisted in a smile. "Don't you have your own notches to discuss?" He bumped Daniel right back on his foot, but harder. "How's things with Carter?"

Daniel coughed, his drink going down the wrong pipe at the change of subject. "Fine, just fine," he said when he could catch a breath. He gave Jack a curious look.

"It must be rough," Jack said, "On Carter I mean." 

Daniel smiled to cover his confusion at a seeming nonsequitur, inviting Jack to keep going.

"She's good," Jack tilted his head, back, thoughtful, almost admiring of Peggy's talent, "Looking at her you'd think she's found relationship bliss with a cripple."

The casualness of that comment took Daniel's breath away. His mouth actually fell open, although he had nothing to say.

Jack's knowing eyes met his. _Bullseye_ , they were saying. Daniel couldn't understand the flash of vicious triumph that flared in those grey eyes.

He watched as Jack downed another shot with studied casualness, ran that sentence over again in his head and still didn't understand its cruel purpose. He couldn't even explain why it had hurt so much. He didn't truly think Peggy would find him repulsive and pretend otherwise. A year ago, two, he might not have been sure, but he was living without the leg every day, he had gotten promoted to Chief without it, he'd asked Peggy out without it, and she had kissed him, as passionately and as ardently as he'd ever been kissed. All without his leg. He didn't need the leg to keep Peggy coming back, he knew that. Even the occasional doubt that found its way into his head late at night didn't account for the way it had felt to hear Jack say those words.

Slowly letting his breath out, Daniel studied his empty glass. The hurt, it wasn't from suspecting Peggy of deceiving him, he realized ― he knew exactly who she was with him. But he had let his guard down around Jack, and it hurt to hear that's what his supposed _friend_ thought.

"Daniel―" Something had changed in Jack's face. He looked sick, or maybe it was just the trick of the poor light.

Daniel interrupted him by standing. "I'll get us another round of drinks," he said, getting his crutch under him again.

"Sit; I can―" Jack started, half rising, his hand going to grab Daniel by the elbow to perhaps pull him down. Daniel deftly avoided his hand.

"I can manage."

He didn't look back as he walked towards the bar, didn't look back as he ordered their drinks. When he turned back around, their table was empty.

Jack was gone.

 _Coward_ , Daniel thought, eyes stinging. They could have sorted it out, but Jack was running again.

He went back to their table, feeling stupid for carrying two shots with him, but he made it, weaving between the tables, and awkwardly set them down. When he sat down himself, Daniel forced himself to think, re-examine their conversation. He couldn't see what had set Jack off, so it had to be something about Jack himself. Maybe he got off on it, maybe he liked getting Daniel to the point where Daniel would just start believing him, just start thinking of him as a friend before Jack decimated everything to shit. There was a kind of pattern to it.

Hadn't he done the same with Peggy time and time again? Taking her accolades for himself, standing in her way, not giving an inch... But it was unfair. You couldn't paint it all with the same brush. Jack had been different. He'd picked their side, some part of Daniel said, a part he had been trying not to hear for months, but which was still there now. Daniel had believed the guy. Even the trickery and double-cross with the bomb hadn't changed his mind about Jack because at its root Daniel didn't think Jack was wrong. He had been trying to protect everyone by doing the dirty thing, blowing away people who could threaten their country. When it came right down to it, Jack had been willing to die for it. Those actions hadn't come out of a place of selfishness or cowardice.

Jack always had another way of looking at the situation. Daniel recognized their differences and valued them, even if he generally fell on Peggy's side in most arguments. Peggy's way was more pure. Peggy's way meant Jason Wilkes got to live. But even Peggy couldn't deny that whatever actions Jack took then, he had thought them righteous at the time.

So what was righteous about attacking Daniel as he'd done, in a moment which should have been all about friendship? Daniel sighed, and left the two shots on the table, along with some bills. Who could tell with Jack? Even if Daniel turned the matter over in his head all night, he had a feeling he wouldn't have his answer. Sometimes people drove you crazy like that, and you never knew why.

When he stepped outside into the cool night air, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, shrugging the evening away. Really, it had been a bad idea to hope for something when it came to Jack. Unpredictable, that's what he was, unreliable.

"Hey, Danny-boy." 

Daniel turned around at the call and found Jack leaning against the wall of the building, in shadows.

"Thought you'd left."

Jack gave a wry smile. "I left; then I came back."

"What for?"

Jack pushed away from the wall. It felt strange to watch him stride towards Daniel, his posture relaxed even if every instinct told Daniel to be on guard. Jack hadn't needed a walking stick for a long time, he walked like a man who'd never been shot, not a mark on him. But Daniel remembered Ana's words suddenly about invisible wounds, and thought to himself, _nothing is ever so simple_.

"I was thinking you could hit me," Jack said. At Daniel's incredulous look, his smile split wider.

The only baffled word that came out was, "Why?"

"It would make you feel better. It might make me feel better too."

"I don't want to hit you, Jack." Daniel said, and meant it.

Jack looked down. "I deserve it. I deserve worse."

Daniel shrugged. He knew Jack couldn't see it but it didn't matter. His silence was its own answer.

"Gonna be the better man, huh," Jack said, glancing at him again. He was slightly drunk. This close, Daniel could smell the alcohol and it wasn't coming from the bar. Jack added, "Fair enough."

"Whatever your problem is," Daniel said, "I wish you'd just _tell_ me."

"So do I." Jack went to open the car door, like that was the end of it. Bowed down ninety degrees, a gallant gentleman motioning for Daniel to get in, before straightening again, his eyes blazing, the smirk twisting his lips hiding none of his desperation. Daniel felt sorry for him, and he didn't know why, didn't know how to stop feeling it. Didn't know how to help Jack get out of his own way, stop mucking things up between them.

Feeling it pointless to participate in this dance of avoidance and deflection, Daniel went towards the car. When he got to the door, he grabbed Jack by his arm that held the car door, a firm grip, not letting him get away. "Tell me," Daniel said, suddenly certain, even as the smile fell away completely from Jack's face. He looked pale as a ghost. "Just tell me what's going on with you."

For a long moment he thought Jack might do it.

"Get in the car, you fool," Jack said, sounding out of breath. Jack tore his hand out from under Daniel's fingers, and strode off to cross to the other side of the car. He drove Daniel home through empty streets, and they didn't exchange another word.  


 

* * *

 

Daniel hadn't been drinking enough to feel hangover, but he had still been expecting to get the rest of the Friday night off. Predictably, his phone rang around five in the morning and he grabbed for it bleary eyed, barking, "Yeah?"

"Daniel, it's me." Peggy's voice had that quality to it that Daniel had learned to read as: shit hitting the fan.

"What is it Peggy?" He sat up, instantly awake. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Peggy hesitated. "Daniel, they found Vernon Masters."

" _What?_ " For a moment, Daniel's brain tied itself in knots at the implications of that. "Where? How? What happened to him?" It's been months since the events at Manfredi's waste management facility. 

"It's a little complicated to explain over the phone," she temporized, "Can you meet me here?" Daniel was already trying to pull a shirt on, one handed. She gave him the address to a Long Term Care facility on the edge of L.A and he was off the bed trying to dress even before the phone's receiver landed on the hook.

When he strode out of the lift on the upper floor of the medical facility, he was greeted with another surprise. Thompson was already there, standing in the hallway staring through the glass into one of the rooms. Peggy sat on one of the chairs at the opposite wall, her dark blue dress clashing with the beige walls. She stood when she saw Daniel. Jack turned to glance at him, his eyes hooded. Daniel forced any expression to remain off his face and soon enough Jack turned back to whatever he was observing through that window. Once Daniel came closer, he could see it was a hospital room. Vernon Masters, white faced and frail, lay motionless in the single cot facing away from them. At first, Daniel thought he looked asleep, but soon he realized the man's eyes were open, staring ahead.

He turned to Peggy. Her face was pale.

"Has he said anything?" 

"No," Peggy said, "I don't think he can."

When Daniel looked askance at her, she continued. "The doctors believe he has brain damage. According to the X-Rays they took, there are holes in the temporal lobe, the motor cortex, like a skilled surgeon carved out small pieces of his brain. Empty spaces, with nothing inside," She shivered. "His skull is completely intact. The doctors are baffled."

"Zero matter?" Daniel garnered a guess. Whatever power Whitney had had to make matter disappear sounded consistent with what he was hearing.

Peggy nodded, and Jack turned towards them from where he'd been observing Vernon.

"Give the boy a cigar," he said. If he wore any signs of their confrontation some hours earlier, they were invisible to Daniel. 

Peggy took Daniel by the elbow. "Are you alright?" Daniel realized he'd gotten lost in thought. It was still terribly early and he didn't feel completely awake.

"Fine. Long night," he rubbed his brow. "So, I'm still processing. Do we know what happened to him?"

"Obviously, he survived whatever Whitney Frost had done," Jack said. 

Peggy nodded, "He is breathing on his own, no sign of organ failure, but he can't talk. They didn't think he was awake until one of the night nurses tried to shine a light into his eyes. His pupils contracted. He can see, but he cannot open his eyes on his own, they've got them taped open right now."

Daniel felt his own skin crawl, and glanced towards the hospital bed behind the glass enclosure.

"He is completely paralyzed. No response to pain stimuli. He appears alert. His right hand twitches occasionally, but that's all the movement the doctors have observed. And he's not getting any better with time."

"How did he get here?"

"Apparently he's been in this facility for months, considered comatose. He was brought in as a John Doe and placed here as a ward of the State; a nurse recognized his photo from the posters and phoned the number last night. He's not on a ventilator but they've got a gastric tube feeing him. They don't know what to do otherwise."

"The doctors are waiting for him to die on his own," Jack elaborated. "Unless the missing parts of his brain unexpectedly show up."

Daniel glanced at him at the glib tone of the words, but Jack's face was turned towards the room, the look in his eyes in contrast to the lightness of his tone.

"You should try talking to him," Daniel said.

Jack's head whipped around to face him. "What?"

"If he's conscious and alert, he might recognize you," Daniel said. "After all, you two were close at one point."

Jack's lips pressed together until they were white. Daniel wondered if he thought Daniel was punishing him for the events of last evening, but it wasn't that. Attempting to speak to the man if they had a chance was simply logical. Vernon Masters wasn't likely to react well to the appearance of either Peggy or Daniel, but if he was confused enough by whatever happened to him, Jack might have a chance to swoop in and learn something.

"The man can't talk," Jack said, his voice suddenly rough with unexpected emotion. He glanced between the two of them, looking for support.

Daniel insisted, "We should at least try."

"If you don't think you can do this..." Peggy started, but her concern had the exact opposite effect of what she might have thought.

"No, I can handle it." Jack turned away from them and approached the glass, setting his hands against it as he stared inside. "What do you want me to ask? 'Hey, Vernon, do you know where you lost pieces of your brain?'"

"Something more concrete than that," Daniel said. "If he is willing to cooperate, there are still many pieces of knowledge that we could learn from him."

"Alright." Jack shook his head, as though in disbelief as to what he was about to do, and opened the door to the patient's room, striding inside.

Daniel and Peggy came closer to the glass window. Vernon Masters couldn't see them from this position, but they would be able to see if his lips moved.

"Hi Vernon," Jack said somberly as he stood next to the hospital bed in Vernon's line of sight. The old man's eyes were focused directly on him. For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other. Daniel shifted on his feet, finding it difficult to stand with all of his muscles locked up with tension in anticipation. Peggy wasn't doing much better at his side, her body wired up like a cord. She squeezed his elbow, for comfort or reassurance he couldn't say.

Vernon's eyes tracked Jack's face as the man stepped closer and ran his eyes up and down the bed, taking in the frail appearance of his old mentor. His slack face. "Not doing so well," Jack's tone was short and terse. His expression was creased with sympathy and horror, both, he couldn't hide his feelings completely, or maybe didn't want to. Daniel couldn't pretend to understand all of Jack's ulterior motives anymore, and knew showing Vernon a sympathetic face was useful. Jack was good at his job.

Tears trickled down from the corners of Vernon's eyes.

"Christ," Daniel said. It was terrible to watch, even if Vernon Masters had been an enemy.

"I understand that you can't talk," Jack said, his tone solid and unwavering; a convincing tone. "But I'll find a way to communicate with you. Some sign for yes and no," Jack cast about for anything that would help him, but the hopeless search turned up nothing.

Suddenly, Peggy squeezed Daniel's elbow to the point of pain. "The fingers of his right hand," she whispered.

Jack noticed it some moments after she did. He glanced at them through the window, and Peggy nodded at him confirming the realization on his face. They'd all seen the same thing. The index finger of Vernon's right hand was tapping out a sequence on the bed. Daniel focused on trying to read the code, a simple Morse sequence:

_―LLMEKILLMEKILLMEKILLMEKILLME―_

Daniel reared back when he understood the message. Jack got it seconds afterward, his movement stilling completely as he stared at the hand, transfixed. The finger kept tapping out that insistent beat; a plea.

"I'll see what I can do," Jack said, before he tore out of the room.

Behind the window, more tears squeezed out of Vernon's eyes, wetting the pillow.

In the hallway along-side Peggy and Daniel, Jack put a hand against the wall, leaning on it. He looked a bit stunned.

"The doctors say he isn't in any pain," Peggy said quietly. "He could spend a long time like this without deteriorating further."

"It must be Hell." Daniel shook his head. "A bullet to the head would be a kindness." He wished there was something they could have done.

Jack leaned against the wall, propping it up, or the other way around. "Is that what you want me to do?"

"Of course not." Peggy said resolutely before Daniel could.

"It's not like I couldn't live with myself afterward," Jack said, his eyes focused on Peggy to the exclusion of everything else. "It might be the right thing to do."

"The situation is clouding your judgment," Peggy said firmly, and Daniel wondered how she could talk like that, but she could, and she was right. "If he can communicate, he can give us important information." She winced. "He is in a terrible state, and I am sorry about that, but we have to make the best of what we have."

"You try making the best of it, while I'm going to go to the nearest bar that's still open." Jack said, pushing off from the wall. Placing his hat on top of his head, he turned to leave.

"Jack, wait," Daniel said. He took Peggy's hand. "You won't be drinking alone."  


 

* * *

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Sholio for her advice and support, from working out characterization to Rose chasing [jack-rabbits](http://sholiofic.tumblr.com/post/141291991948/prompt-rose-has-been-promoted-following-all-the); and for putting up with endless e-mails about this show that ate my brain! 
> 
> I have some ideas for a continuation in this universe, so please tell me what you think about the story.


End file.
